


Coming Home

by Venusdoom3



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Also I Wonder Who Steve's Main Squeeze Could Possibly Be, Apologies, Breaking and Entering, Bruce Feels, Bruce is a sweetheart, But Only for Bruce, Endearments, Except Apparently I Do, F/M, Face Slapping, Fluff and Smut, I Don't Write Het, Kissing, Lots of kissing, Oral Sex, Sex, natasha is a softie, oh yeah and, what has happened to me, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: "I left because of how I felt about you," he continued, impassioned, needing to make her understand. "It scared me how much I wanted to be with you, because you're worth so much more. You should be with someone who's not a monster."Natasha blinked slowly up at him, shaking her head. "You're an idiot, not a monster."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Can't help it. It seems I ship 'em.
> 
> Takes place in the same universe as my Stucky series.

**

"Oh, God, that feels good."

Bruce Banner tipped his head back, his mouth falling open and his eyes squeezing shut with bliss, allowing the hot water of the shower pour over him. It had been months since he was able to have a proper shower; he had been bathing in a river, which, as it went, was better than nothing, but it didn't come close to a real shower. This shower in particular was heavenly, as it should be, because it probably cost more than Bruce wanted to think about. Tony Stark was not the type to skimp on the details, including those details related to the living quarters he had built within Avengers Tower for all their team members.

This was the first time Bruce had set foot inside the quarters reserved for him, and while he thought it was gorgeous, he had argued – gently – with Tony, saying the one bedroom apartment, taking up nearly half of the entire floor, was too much just for him. Tony brushed it off, saying he could have designated the entire floor for Bruce, but he was stuck sharing with Steve Rogers and, as Tony put it, "his main squeeze." Bruce hadn't seen Steve or said squeeze since Bruce's arrival at the tower an hour or so before; his time had been spent catching up with Tony, who fed him and made him drink some very old scotch before accompanying him to his apartment and giving him the grand tour at Tony's usual ADHD-driven speed. 

Now Bruce was alone, and all he had wanted – for weeks, if he was honest with himself – was a hot shower and a real bed to fall into. While he loved the Brazilian jungle, sleeping on the ground in a tent surrounded by creatures of varying degrees of dangerousness had lost its appeal after a few months. Still, he couldn't bring himself to return to civilization, even less so to his friends and to the large, densely packed population of Manhattan, knowing the destruction and mayhem his large, green alter ego was capable of.

The allure of it, though – of coming  _home_  – was too strong to resist when Tony sent word that he needed Bruce's help with a big project he was working on. How Tony managed to locate him was beyond Bruce, but locate him Tony had, and Bruce had finally agreed, packing up his meager possessions and returning stateside.

He'd be lying to himself, however, if he said the only reasons he wanted to return home were mattresses, running water, and intellectually stimulating projects. He had one very compelling reason in the forefront of his mind when he made the decision to return.

Shaking himself from his thoughts and turning off the water, though not without reluctance, Bruce stepped out of the huge, ornately tiled shower stall and dried off with an absurdly fluffy green towel, which was surely Tony's idea of a joke, since the rest of the bathroom was decorated in blue and white. With his hair still dripping, its dark curls longer than usual due to the Amazon's marked lack of barber shops, and with water still trickling down his tanned torso, he exited the en suite bathroom into the bedroom – _his_ bedroom – which was lit only by the light spilling in from the hallway. Bruce made his way to the side of the bed and fumbled with the lamp until he found the switch. Just as the lamp at last clicked on beneath his fingertips, a soft, husky voice cut through the silence and made Bruce jump.

"You  _are_  back."

Bruce whirled around, clutching his towel around his waist, his vision tinged with green around the edges for  _just_  a split second before his self-imposed training kicked in. In a plush armchair in the corner of the bedroom sat Natasha Romanoff, her legs crossed and her familiar, impossibly beautiful face expressionless.

"Jesus, Natasha!" Wide-eyed, Bruce caught his breath as he stared at her. Her wavy red hair was wet, as well, her face devoid of makeup, and she wore a pair of boxer shorts and an ancient white t-shirt with a deep v-neck and a hole in the sleeve. 

She was a vision of utter loveliness.

"You scared the hell out of me, which you, of all people, know isn't the greatest idea," Bruce said when she didn't respond, only continued regarding him with cool green eyes. He couldn't help marveling over her porcelain white skin, from her unblemished face, down her graceful throat to the modest cleavage her t-shirt displayed, over her arms – crossed over her chest – and down her long,  _long_  legs, gorgeous and shapely all the way to her perfectly adorable bare feet.

He was so busy drinking her in that he barely registered her rising from the chair and approaching him until she stood right in front of him, staring at him for a moment before hauling off and slapping him across his left cheek, rocking his head back with the force of it. She stepped back, and, holding a hand to his stinging cheek, he noted the way the anger in her eyes belied the impassiveness of her expression.

"I deserved that," Bruce murmured, not looking away, and she clenched her teeth, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, you goddamn well did. After everything we've been through, after everything we've told each other, after we got so close that I actually  _fell_  for you, Bruce – and I don't fall for  _anyone_  – for you to disappear without a word and leave me wondering if you were running from me or from the team or from life in general, wondering if you were even  _alive..._ " Natasha stopped, grief and anger flickering for an instant over her face before her emotionless mask slipped into place again.

"I know." He closed his eyes for a moment, a hundred conflicting emotions washing through his bloodstream, leaving him unable to tell whether each was driven by his mind, his heart, or his body. "I can't tell you enough how sorry I am. I fell for you, too, Nat. Hard. I still... I thought about you every day I was gone, wishing I could have brought you with me or at least told you where I went, but I knew that if you knew where I was, you'd show up and destroy my willpower."

She snorted. It was true. She had a history of it.

"I left  _because_  of how I felt about you," he continued, impassioned, needing to make her understand. "It scared me how much I wanted to be with you, because you're worth so much more. You should be with someone who's not a monster."

Natasha blinked slowly up at him, shaking her head. "You're an idiot, not a monster."

A smile twitched at the corner of his full lips. "I deserved that, too."

As she moved closer to him, it occurred to him for the first time that he was wearing nothing but a towel. "You know what else you deserve?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. "What?" 

Natasha tented her fingertips against the sparse hair in the center of his chest and pushed him backward onto the bed, where he lay in wide-eyed surprise as she climbed onto him, straddling his hips and bending down to brush his forehead with her soft, sensual lips, her auburn hair falling like curtains around them. "Love, and to forgive yourself for things that happened that were outside your control. I can't do much about the second one, but I know I can give you the first."

"God, I missed you," Bruce breathed, allowing his arms to encircle her, tugging her warm body tight against him. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

She sighed a little at the endearment, the tension in her body bleeding away, and leaned down to press their lips together. It was only the second time they had ever kissed, but to Bruce, it felt like he was home.

"I want to be with you," she gasped when they broke for air, running the fingers of one hand through his damp, curly hair. "I want to start right now and never stop."

"Anything," Bruce replied, somewhat nonsensically, but anyone who could lock lips with Natasha Romanoff and speak coherently afterward couldn't be entirely human. 

"Do you  _promise_  you'll never leave like that again?"

There was something disarming about a career spy and assassin falling back on a childhood manner of reassurance, and Bruce was overwhelmed by a wave of entirely non-sexual adoration for the woman pinning him to the bed. Maintaining the grip of his arms around her, he maneuvered her onto her back; that she allowed him to do it at all rather than reacting instinctively to prevent being overpowered spoke volumes about her trust for him. His heart swelling, he hovered over her, dropping gentle kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, and the tip of her nose. "I promise," he whispered, punctuating it with another brush of his lips against hers. "I could never hurt you like that again."

She hummed in response, reaching between them to tug at the towel wrapped around his waist, and he pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, with her fingertips hooked under the terrycloth, and asked her, "Are you sure?"

"As long as you are." Her full lips, swollen further and glossy red from kissing him, curved into a smile, and he wanted her. Oh, how he wanted her. "I might get your heart rate up there, though."

Bruce returned her smile, relief and lust warring for dominance within him. "I've got that part under control. Turns out my heart rate isn't the trigger. My emotional and physical reaction to negative stressors is what initiates the transfor– oh, God. I'm nerding out on you in bed. Jesus."

"You're sexy when you're nerdy," Natasha said, rising to lick his earlobe before sinking back down and pulling open his towel, tossing it aside. "Mmm. You're sexy when you're naked, too."

With a helpless groan, Bruce kissed her again, their lips remaining locked as he allowed her to push him back until he rested on his knees, sitting on his heels. She pulled away, giving him a dark, utterly lascivious look, and trailed her fingernails down his chest and flat belly. Staring him in the eyes, she took his cock in her hand and gave him a few long, slow pulls, making his mouth fall open and his eyelashes flutter. "Ungh. Nat, that feels so good." His words escaped him on a sigh. "I haven't done this with anyone but myself in a long,  _long_  time."

"You're sure you can handle it without going green on me?" she teased, kissing his shoulder, his collarbone, his sternum, and the quivering muscle just above his bellybutton. 

"A hundred percent," he whispered, swallowing hard as he watched her move down his torso with an obvious goal in mind, and when Natasha gripped the base of his cock with her hand and took the head into her mouth, he let out a loud moan before focusing on breathing deeply and forcing his mind to remain calm, letting his body handle the excitement. It would take serious control, though, because watching Natasha's mouth slide down his length, her plump lips stretched, her tongue almost unbearably hot, set off electric explosions behind his eyes. She had him breathing heavily within seconds, grunting not long after that, and shaking all the way through, but before she could take him over the edge, he gritted out her name, desperation edging his voice.

She pulled off him with one final tight drag of her lips, releasing him with a soft slurp and rising to meet him eye to eye, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Hmm?"

"You're way too good at that," he said, breathless, "and you're wearing entirely too many clothes."

"Oh, yeah." She raised a playful eyebrow. "Why don't you do something about it?"

This was exactly the distraction without direct stimulation that he needed to rein himself in. "I will, as long as you don't mind me taking my time."

Natasha shrugged and licked her lips, letting him guide her to lie down, her hair forming a red halo on the pillows beneath her. "You're so beautiful," Bruce murmured, tracing her chin and jaw with one finger while smoothing over her lips with the pad of his thumb. She stared up at him, trusting, adoring, and open; he couldn't love her more at that moment if he tried. He skimmed a hand down her arm, lacing their fingers together as he leaned in to give her a brief kiss, then dragged his palm up her side over her t-shirt, pausing just under her arm and letting his eyes roam over her chest. Her breasts stretched the thin fabric of her old t-shirt taut, straining it so much that the soft pink of her nipples was visible. Unable to resist, he bent down and laved his tongue over one nipple before closing his lips around it, savoring both the feeling of the tight little bud in his mouth and the sound of her gasp. 

When she was squirming and the spot on her t-shirt was soaked through and all but transparent, he slid a hand up her tummy, dragging the hem of her shirt upward. Impatient, she pulled the shirt over her head and flung it at the far wall. He spent a while giving her exposed breasts attention, kissing, licking, and caressing until she squirmed with need. "Tell me what you want, baby," he said, his voice low and rough.

" _You!_ " she gasped. "I want you so much."

"Mmm," came his reply from further down the bed as he removed the blue plaid boxers she wore, tossing them off the side of the bed and reverently parted her legs to insinuate himself between them. Kissing the inside of her knee, he slid his hands up the pale silk of her inner thighs, following them with his lips, and when he reached the soft, smooth shaven mound in the center, he placed another light kiss there, his brown eyes alight with feverish want and locked on her face. 

"Yes," she breathed, eyes half lidded, and he needed no further invitation, gently parting her velvety lips and running the flat of his tongue over the pink, pearlescent flesh he uncovered. She was hot and wet and tasted like heaven, and, settling in and lifting her legs to hook them over his shoulders, he buried his face between them to lick, suck, nibble, and otherwise use his mouth in any way he could imagine, both inside of her and out.  

He wasn't sure what to watch for – he had last witnessed the female orgasm in person with his longtime love, Betty, an inconceivable nine years ago, and Nat was an entirely different woman, besides – but Natasha's signals were far from subtle as she quickly grew close. 

"Oh, God, Bruce – don't stop, please don't stop, I'm – I'm–" 

Her body stiffened, her legs shaking violently and tightening around his head, and she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling hard as she came, short, loud cries of pleasure pealing from her swollen lips. When she finally loosened her grip on both his hair and his head, he placed one last indulgent kiss on her searing pink warmth and crawled up her trembling body, brushing pale flesh with his lips as he went. 

"Bruce." It was the softest of sighs, his name exiting her lips on a breath, but it was the sweetest sound he thought he had ever heard. 

"Hi," he said with a smile, wiping the lower half of his face with his hand before bending down to kiss her, light and brief.

She threaded her fingers through his hair again, dazed and flushed, and returned his smile. "Hey, you."

"How'd I do?"

"On a scale of one to ten?" Natasha teased, nipping at his chin. "Eleven."

Bruce felt himself blush and ducked his head to kiss her again, this time longer. He was achingly hard, and she definitely noticed, squirming deliberately against him and smirking when he pulled back from the kiss to let out a soft groan. If he hadn't spent the many years since his lab accident learning every conceivable method of self control, he'd have gone off like a shot just from that.

"God, I want you." She hooked a heel behind his leg, pulling his head down so she could kiss the side of his neck and nuzzle his ear. "Right now."

Bruce froze for a second and then cursed. "Shit."

"What?"

"I don't have any, uh... I didn't bring anything... any protection. And there's no way we can go without." His face reddened further, and Natasha cupped his cheek, waiting for him to continue. "The gamma rays," he explained, awkward but brave as he met her eyes. "I've tested all of my body fluids, and my saliva and tears are safe, but there are dangerous concentrations of radiation in my blood and–"

"Bruce." She was smiling, an eyebrow lifted. "It's okay. I kind of figured that. I brought a few with me when I came up."

Chuckling, Bruce followed her pointing finger to the nightstand, where a handful of condom packets lay in a heap. "You were planning this from the start, huh?"

"More like hoping for it, even if I _was_ super pissed at you." Natasha looked uncharacteristically bashful, her cheeks stained pink and her eyes lowered, and he couldn't resist dipping down to kiss her again, soft and sweet.

"How did you know I was here, anyway? Did Tony tell you I was coming back?"

She shook her head, the corner of her lips curving upward. "No, he didn't, and I'm going to cause him severe bodily harm for that. I was getting out of the shower, and I heard yours running upstairs. The water coming down the pipes. Your bathroom is right above mine, and nobody else uses your place, so..."

"Very clever." His fingertips traced the side of her throat and her collarbone. "For the record, I'm _really_ glad you're a spy, if it brought you right here."

"Me, too." She gave him a long, dark blink. "Now, are we going to lay here talking all night, or are you going to give me what I want?"

"I will _always_ give you what you want." No matter how light it was intended in context, they both almost certainly understood it had much more earnest undertones, more a promise than a quip.

Natasha pushed him onto his side next to her and leaned over him to grab one of the packets from the nightstand, her breasts pressing pleasantly into his arm as she did, and he watched, entranced, the way her lithe muscles moved under her skin. He ran the palm of his hand down her side to rest on her hip when she settled in beside him again to tear open the packet. "What's that look?" she asked, her tone playful but her voice shaking the smallest bit, rolling the condom onto him with warm, sure fingers.

He let his eyes wander over her body, coming to rest on her face. "I can't get over how beautiful you are."

"Nice line, heartbreaker."

"Oh, right, because you're _not_ beautiful?" He curled his arm around her waist and tugged her close, skin to skin. "I have news for you," he whispered into her ear before kissing the lobe. "I don't do lines, and I don't use the word lightly, either, but you _are_ the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He punctuated the sentence with a brief kiss, doing the same after each descriptor that followed. "Not to mention sexy... and graceful... and strong... and brilliant..."

"And growing older by the second!" she exclaimed, but she was blushing again and smiling. "Come _here_  already!"

Kissing her again, Bruce was gentle as he rolled on top of her, letting her guide him where he needed to be and maintaining eye contact as he pushed inside her warm wetness. When he reached his depth, they both released the breaths they were holding, his as a sigh and hers as a low moan. When he began rocking into her with long, leisurely strokes, she threw her head back, her arms surrounding him. She was as warm and welcoming as a bath on a cold day and so tight he thought he might lose his mind, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder, feeling as if he might melt right into her.

"Oh, honey," Natasha breathed into his still damp hair, gripping his back. "You feel so good."

He smiled against her shoulder, rolling his hips faster, her smoothly muscled legs wrapping around his waist in response. Their movements were sinuous, fluid; their combined breaths morphed into gasps and then moans, Natasha's louder and more frequent, her voice rising into cries that began soft but, as their pace increased, soon rang through the apartment, the most addictive music Bruce had ever heard.

Well, Tony _had_ mentioned the units were all soundproofed. Then again, at this point, Bruce didn't give a fraction of a damn what Cap or his special friend might overhear.

After a while, Natasha relinquished her legs' grip on his waist, staring up at him with need blazing from her every pore. "Turn over, okay?"

Language escaped him, so Bruce merely grunted, blinking sweat out of his eyes, and flopped onto his back, taking her with him. She ended up astride his lap, laughing when she realized they hadn't even broken their connection.

"Slide up on the pillows," she said, and he obeyed, his hands on her waist holding her flush against his pelvis. Once he was partially reclined, she leaned over, bracing her hands against the headboard, and began grinding against him with slow, purposeful circles of her hips. Her mouth fell open, her eyelids fluttering, and she moaned his name.

"God, Natasha," he hissed, reaching up to cup her breasts in both hands and letting her dictate the speed and pressure of their movements, watching her face contort prettily as the sounds she made became louder and more intense. "Are you close, baby?"

"Just a little longer. Yes, yes, yes, Bruce..." A full-body shudder tore through her and transferred directly to him, his eyes widening as she pressed harder against him with every thrust of her hips, her precise movements making it apparent that she knew exactly what she needed, where and how fast and how hard. She proved his theory just seconds later as she stilled almost entirely, only her hips making sharp, aborted movements, and she came again, eyes rolling back and hair falling forward, her sweet, brief cries building to a gorgeous crescendo. That was all it took, or maybe all he could take, and his body followed her of its own volition; he came hard, every muscle tensed almost painfully, a loud, feral groan ripping from his lungs as he emptied into her, snapping his hips upward until the wave crested and crashed back down, leaving him twitching, sweaty, and spent.

"Oh my God!" Natasha gasped, collapsing onto his chest. It took a great deal of effort for Bruce to lift his head enough to kiss the top of hers.

"Incredible." The word stretched out like exhaled smoke. Bruce found the energy left within himself to wrap his arms around her again, one hand on her lower back and the other winding itself in her hair.

Natasha turned her head to kiss the stubbled hinge of his jaw. "Even better than I imagined, and I didn't think that was possible."

"I love that you imagined it. I was so afraid I'd ruined everything with you." He pulled back only enough to look at her. "I know I already said it, but I'm sorry, Nat. I'm sorry I ever left, especially without explaining myself or saying goodbye. I'll never do that again. I'm staying here, making this home. And I'd really like it if you'd be a part of that."

"Oh, I guess that'd be okay," she said with a sigh, green eyes twinkling as she gave him a lazy smile with her cheek pillowed against his shoulder. "But you owe me, big fella. A _lot_."

Bruce grinned, holding her just a little tighter. "That's a debt I'm pretty sure I'm going to enjoy paying off."

**


End file.
